


Togged to the bricks

by DeVereWinterton



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: 1920s sayings, Angst, Did I Mention Angst?, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e12 Murder in the Dark, F/M, Lost chapter, One gaudy interlude, Smut, angsty smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeVereWinterton/pseuds/DeVereWinterton
Summary: It was my birthday the other day, so here's a fic.Jack will take it from here.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher & Jack Robinson, Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 82





	Togged to the bricks

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this chapter over a year ago as part of my prompt fic 'So they say', which is based on sayings and expressions from the 1920s and 1930s. Slang phrases, if you will. I recently found this chapter and thought it would be a shame not to post, but I feel it works better as a small standalone ficlet rather than an added chapter. This one is also based on a slang phrase, and I've added its meaning in the end notes. It's short, not sweet.
> 
> Enjoy this little fic 'n run, I'm out.

_  
  
“Come on, Jack. Just one gaudy night…”  
  
  
_

The words were out of her mouth before she could help herself.

She’d tried to restrain herself around Jack Robinson these past months, but between the alcoholic beverages she’d imbibed before his arrival, the loose atmosphere of the party, and the vital knowledge that he was – as of this afternoon – no longer a married man…

He’d looked at her with those solemn, burning blue eyes, the desire in them every bit as evident as the sudden tenting fabric at the front of his trousers.

He had her pinned against the bedroom wall before she was able to take her next breath.

Phryne didn’t know what had come over him.

The air between them had been charged, but nowadays this wasn’t unusual. However, when he’d swallowed almost audibly at the loosening of his tie, the dam had obviously burst.

She liked to think of Jack as the calm before the storm, but right now, he was an inferno incarnate. A whirlwind of passion, an ocean filled with tears of sadness.

A man in desperate need of comfort, of solace, and a place where he belonged.

She couldn’t think of a better place for him to be right now, or a place where he belonged more than right here, between her thighs.

Her breath was hot and hard, and when he pulled her hips down on a particularly deep thrust, it caught in her throat. She tightened her legs around his waist and clawed at his back, which earned her a deep growl, snarled against her neck in an attempt to muffle the sound.

Jack was panting, his small bursts of air branding the delicate skin of her exposed throat.

Their coupling was frenzied, and harsh, almost punishing in its execution.

It was glorious. Every single part of it.

The tightly wound coil that had finally snapped.

The impatience that had overcome them both.

His lips on hers, bruising. Her tongue in his mouth, taking.

Jack had not even bothered to remove her bandeau-top – or a lot of other clothing, for that matter. Instead he’d opted for cupping and squeezing her breasts through the exquisite material of the costume, teasing her nipples into hard points with his thumbs.

Her skirt was bunched around her waist from when he’d hiked it up. All the while his hands had been shaking with either impatience or uncertainty; she wasn’t sure which.

The golden headpiece on the floor shimmered dully in the yellow light of the bedside lamp. Her collar was askew from where Jack had suckled on her clavicle. She was only wearing one of her golden slippers and her underwear had been hastily pushed to the side to grant him quick access in their frenzy.

He’d only looked up briefly as he aligned himself, silently asking for permission. She’d nodded – glad she’d had the foresight to insert her pessary before coming to the party.

The pressure of him as he filled her in one measured, merciless push, had left her breathless.

The trousers of his blue wool suit were around his ankles. Somehow she’d had the presence of mind not to rip the buttons off of his shirt, deftly but quickly undoing them instead (and bemoaning the presence of a vest). His shirt was still hanging from his elbows as neither of them had bothered undoing the buttons at his cuffs. It hadn’t been important.

Nothing really mattered but the push and pull, the sure slide of his cock deep inside of her body, igniting the flame that was already threatening to explode. The solid weight of his frame, almost crushing against her and at the same time holding her up. The strength of his arms and thighs, the relentless thrusting of his hips.

It was over far too soon.

It couldn’t last.

When he came, it was breath-taking and heart-breaking.

Her body was still thrumming with pent-up, unreleased desire and arousal.

Involuntarily, she clenched around him, and he whimpered, trembling.  
  
  
  


She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment his shudders of ecstasy turned into shivers of regret, resentment and remorse.

All she knew was how to hold him as he wept at the unfairness of it all.

Later, when he gently slipped from her body, awkwardly disengaged himself from her embrace and quietly righted himself before leaving the room without a word, she knew he had found his way into her heart.

At his most vulnerable, Jack had unintentionally given her something that was undeniable, and yet terrifying at the same time.

He did not once look at her where she stood, leaning heavily on the wall. Her costume was a mess, and she did not want to ponder on the state of her hair, let alone her make-up. She could feel their combined fluids as they slowly started to trickle down her inner-thighs.

She rubbed her own arms in an attempt to soothe herself.

Phryne knew this wasn’t about her. He wasn’t disgusted with her. Knowing Jack as she did, he was appalled at his own behaviour, and she could almost see the guilt as it crept into his pores, overtaking the passionate man who had been here mere minutes ago. The weight was back on his shoulders, the furrow returned to his brow.

She did not want him to feel remorse about what they had done. She didn’t regret it, although she knew this was not the way he would have liked for this to happen. If at all. Jack would carry the guilt and the responsibility on his back like a heavy cross, a burden, and Phryne knew she would have to be the stronger person, for both their sakes.

She could do that.

Even later still - after she’d sorted herself out - she opened an envelope, and their roles were drastically reversed.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> _Togged to the Bricks: dressed to the nines._


End file.
